Writings to the future
by North of the North
Summary: Mathew, a budding author, is unknowingly writing a story about his future. One where he meets someone else to share it with. However, that other person may not be all he seems, and Mathew's subconscious kind of forgot to mention in his story how crazy that other person would be.
1. Chapter 1

Two hours after Mathew started to scratch his words down, his pencil suddenly stopped writing his words into his spiral red notepad decorated with his favorite maple leafs. Mathew took in a deep breath, and laid the pencil down onto the wooden table before him. Placing it neatly beside the papers he had just been working on, making sure that they were parallel to each other. He leaned back in his chair, stretching out the kinks he had gotten from sitting still for so long.

'That was unusual, normally I don't write for that long of a time but, that was almost like I wasn't even thinking about writing at all. I just wrote. It wasn't hard to keep going at all.'

Mathew shook out his hand a bit and pinched at the meaty part of it where the muscles had all seized up, turning his hand numb and almost unusable.

'That was really strange'

Mathew stood up from his writing desk and reviewed what he'd just written.

'I like this though, I guess this is going to be my next novel then. This is going to be interesting, I've never written a love story before, just younger teen fantasy.'

Mathew walked away from his writing desk and went downstairs to his kitchen to eat before he continued to write. Before bed he would type it all out then go to sleep.

This was the pattern of his days and it continued the same as always for the next few winter and spring months. Mathew would wake up, write, eat, write again, eat his small lunch, then write some more before he started his supper and typed it all up before bed. The same every day.

It was almost scary how easily the words seemed to come to him though. He wasn't even thinking about it at all. It was like he wasn't even the one putting the words down onto his paper, he was just the one writing it. It didn't really make sense, but the gist of it was that it all seemed new to him, like he had never seen it before, when he read it up later while he was typing.

Besides his apparent lack of control over his own hand, and writing, the only thing that worried him was how he didn't know how well his book was going to be received later in its completion.

People were being really accepting now but, who would want to read a novel about a gay romance? Despite how much people accepted it nowadays, there would be no market for it at all. People would probably criticise it. They would probably say that they expected much better from the popular novelist Mathew Williams.

Wow, he was already starting to freak himself out. It must be because he felt like he was almost done with the book. Mathew honestly didn't know if there would be another book in this style. He didn't think so. It felt like this would be it.The first romance novel he had ever written would be about two guys falling in love together. It didn't seem to have an ending, not yet at least. The only way he knew he was going to finish the novel soon was that mixed feeling of tiredness and elation you get near the end of a competition, award, or anything else that takes a long time to work up towards.

The ending he felt would happen was that he was going to stop it just before they got together, before they officially became lovers. The book would start with their attraction to each other. And it would end with their confession.

Mathew liked it this way, it left it up to the readers to decide whether they got together in the end or not.

The two guys he was writing about seemed like an odd pairing for him to write together, that was for sure. They didn't seem to match up, with their opposite personalities and attitudes. Who would have thought he'd write a book about a surly Brit paired with a shy Canadian?


	2. Chapter 2

Writings to the Future part 2

He needed space to breath, Mathew decided. He'd been cooped up in his house for so long now and he needed some fresh air.

After some thought over his choices, not that there were many this was a small town after all, he decided that a walk to the park was in order.

One bad thing about not being very active in a while was that he got tired quickly. He just had his lucky stars to thank that he had a high metabolism and didn't eat a lot, or else…well, his difficulty in walking around would be more due to something else than a lack of muscles. Or maybe his laziness was inspired by the warm sun shining above. It was certainly making him feel drowsy. That's it, he could use the sun as his scapegoat for this.

Mathew sat down on a park bench that was conveniently there right after he decided that he wanted to sit down and enjoy the sun. He closed his eyes and leaned back, then frowned when it seemed like a cloud must have covered up the sun because he could no longer feel its warmth on his face.

"Do you mind if I sit beside you?"

Mathew cracked open his eyes to see a person in a brown sweater and dark blue-black pants with blond hair and bright green eyes standing in front of him. Mathew smiled.

"Of course," he said.

Well, now he couldn't go back to that dozing state. It would be rude to close his eyes like he was sleeping while another person was there.

The other person just stayed sitting there, but Mathew felt this was getting a bit awkward and pulled out a book. It was a fiction book meant for a younger audience than his, but he liked the author and he'd been following the series since it came out. His reading it was justified in his mind, even if his brother looked at him weirdly whenever he caught him like this. Whatever, Alfred had never liked reading anyway, he had no right to criticize his reading habits. Even if he never actually said anything, Mathew could tell when what he was thinking by the smirk on his face. It didn't matter, Alfred was a country away, and it wasn't like Alfred would call him just to see if he still read books like this. He was just being silly thinking like this.

And the person beside him stayed doing nothing besides looking straight ahead with his arms crossed. It was kind of unnerving.

'You shouldn't think that way about a stranger.' Mathew scolded himself in his mind.

Thankfully, the blond beside him broke the silence.

"So, what's your name?"

"Mathew."

'I should have asked a question back.' Mathew lamented. What if we go back to saying nothing and just sitting here awkwardly?

"Ah, mine is Arthur."

'Thank God he kept talking.'

"Okay."

'Wow, Mathew that was so intelligent to say. Shut up, mind.'

Mathew set down his book. Hopefully the action would encourage more of a conversation. Besides, it was only polite to pay attention when people were talking.

"It's from the series Warriors. It's a teen book, but I like it. It's told from the viewpoint of acts, which I enjoy, and it's really well told."

"I see." Arthur said, then he paused with a look of concentration on his face.

Please just be thinking of the next question and not of something else, like, for instance, something along the lines of 'this person is really boring, I should stop talking to them'.

"So, what do you do for a living?" Arthur asked.

Mathew smiled.

"I'm an author."

"You write books? Really? What kind?"

"Mainly horror, fantasy, and a few mysteries; but, lately I've written a romance."

"Wow. How long have you been writing for?"

The man seemed to be really animated about this line of conversation. Maybe he was interested in books?

'I should really start to ask some questions of my own for him soon so that he doesn't get bored…I don't really know what to ask for though. There should really be a manual on what questions to ask random people you meet. I should have paid more attention when Alfred was having all those people over for parties so long ago.'

"Since I was in grade eleven and they offered a Creative Writing class at my school. I thought it sounded interesting and took it. After that I got hooked on writing and I've ended up loving it since then." Mathew replied.

"I see. Why do you like writing? Like, what was it in the class that inspired you?"

"Well, it wasn't really the class itself that inspired me, it was the thoughts it made me think of afterward. It made me think that my writing is mine. It's a talent, a special gift that only I can do. I'm not saying that no one else can write stories. But, no one can write the exact same stories that I do. No one else in the world can write like I can. These are my ideas told with my voice that were given shape by my own experiences. Just like how even twins who share everything together will have different experiences at some point. My thoughts and what comes from them can't be copied. I like writing because no matter how many people write, my words will stay unique. Even if people use the same characters, the same ideas, even the same plot, each story will still be different because of the way the author tells it. No one else has the same exact experiences as I have had. No one else has the same exact thoughts that I do. Every story out there in the world will be unique because they are the author's thoughts on that particular subject. And everyone's thoughts are unique. I think that is why I like writing stories." Mathew said as he leaned back against the back of the bench. He'd leaned forward at some point while he was talking, but he couldn't remember when. He'd become engrossed in talking about what he loved. Mathew continued. "Because it's mine, and my own, no one else's. There isn't any one like me in that regard, and with me being confused so often- well, never mind that, but I'll just say that I like that my writing makes me feel special in that way. I like it a lot."

"Wow. I can't say for sure that I understand that completely, but I hope I can someday. Thank you for sharing that with me." Arthur stood up from the park bench and turned to face Mathew. "Do you mind if we meet up again later?"

Mathew looked up at him surprised for a moment before he jolted back into action and scrambled to stuff his book back into his bag.

'He liked talking to me then?'

Mathew paused when he was about to zip his backpack back up and instead rifled through it searching for his notebook. Finding it, he grabbed a pencil as well and opened the notebook he'd brought with him up, flipping to the end of it so he could tear off a sheet. His hand shaking slightly, Mathew wrote on the torn off piece of paper then handed it to Arthur.

"Here, this is my number. Call me whenever. Distractions from writing are always fine, gives you a bit of a brain boost, I guess. So, don't be afraid to call."

Arthur smiled at him. The light from the sun seeming to soften his bright green eyes, or maybe it was his smile. Either way, Mathew thought it looked…nice. Friendly.

"Thank you," Arthur said. "Would I be able to have your notebook quickly?"

"Sure." Mathew handed it over with the pencil balanced on top of it.

Arthur scribbled down something then handed the notebook back to Mathew, the pencil he offered with his other hand.

"Here you go. That's my number. If you feel like it, you can call me too now."

Arthur took a step back and stuffed his hands into his sweater pockets.

"Have a good day, Mathew." He said as he turned around and headed off down the pathway out of the park. He went the in the same direction that Mathew had been heading in before he stopped.

'So, is his house in that direction? Or is he merely finishing his walk? I really shouldn't be concerned with issues like that. I should stop thinking like that so randomly.'


End file.
